


Falling

by nomercles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, basophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-12
Updated: 2017-06-12
Packaged: 2018-11-13 06:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11178990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomercles/pseuds/nomercles
Summary: Sam remembered the fall





	Falling

Sam never told Dean this, but he remembered the fall.

Adam--Michael--got ripped out of his grip pretty quick. He never saw him again. For a flash of a second, he saw Michael's grace go screaming out of him reaching hard for the surface, only to bounce, arrowing down, faster than he or Adam could fall. Adam's eyes looked wide and terrified and as naturally blue as that angelic presence, and then he was gone.

He wasn't sure how the falling thing worked. Hell's metaphysical, he shouldn't have felt it. His proprioceptors shouldn't have been firing. He shouldn't have felt his clothes and his cheeks press back against the bones of his body. He shouldn't have had time to curl and brace for the impact that never came.

The horrible thing is that the impact came a thousand times later, again, and again, and again. Lucifer wanted him to remember it. Feel it. Lucifer still held it all against him.

But that was later. He didn't like to think about any of it, but he especially didn't like to think about later. The Cage. He never had nightmares about the Cage, but he remembered the fall, every time. His go-to picture show, playing in 3D in a brainpan near you.

The fall, though. That was strange. He wondered sometimes if he'd have gone the way of Adam if Lucifer had made his own break for it. If he hadn't been holding onto that presence inside him as hard as he could.

He never told Dean that he could remember how Lucifer felt, either. They didn't talk about that sort of thing. It was just as well. He knew Dean would never understand that in his darkest moments, he missed the bastard. Demons felt greasy. Ghosts felt static but discrete. But Lucifer felt...Lucifer felt like a terrible kind of love. Pure.

Oh, he knew Lucifer was evil, as much as any of them. He might have been an angel, but he liked to get his hands dirty, liked to wallow in the rage and self-pity and vanity. He liked to hurt things. Lucifer was a homicidal bully. An angel supremacist. But he never felt like that, inside Sam's head. He felt clean. Sam had this terrifying, immense being inside his head, and it should have been crowded in there, but he just felt scoured empty.

So there he is. Falling. Forever.

See, that was the other thing. He fell forever. He was falling when he was in the Cage, he was falling as soon as those rings hit the dirt, he was falling as he heard wretched screaming and whimpering coming from all around him and in his own throat. He never stopped falling. It never felt like flying. It just felt like losing himself. Little bits of skin and threads of fabric shearing off, whipped away by the scorching wind of his own passing, until there was nothing left.

He got topside, his soul was falling. He got his soul back inside him, he was falling. He got his memories slammed back into him, he was falling. He was walking around on solid ground, healthy and whole, drinking smoothies and translating dead languages, and he was _still falling_.

He'd stopped hoping he was ever going to land.


End file.
